Learning to Rise

“If you’ve never risen, you’ve never fallen” - Anonymous 

A Season in the Basque Country

In August 2018, I signed with Real Unión B who play in the fifth division of Spain’s football pyramid. The work I put in the previous spring and in preseason was acknowledged by the club and I was given an opportunity to officially join the team on a one-year deal. As I reflect back on the months I spent on trial and in preseason, I realize how much adversity I faced during that entire experience both on and off the field. Adjusting to a new language, culture, and football methodology all at once can be taxing on the brain and body, but these are challenges that I continue to embrace and enjoy in many different ways. I don’t want to stay stagnant as a person or as a player (I reflected on this in my previous blog, I Haven’t Arrived) and one of the main goals I have in life is to continue to grow and learn. 

Game day always excites me. This is a day when time seems to move slower and I have a lot of adrenaline running through my veins. Matches are a showcase for all of the hard work and grind of previous days, weeks, months, and years. I always look forward to the build-up to the game in particular; the drive to the stadium, the music in the locker room, and the buzz in the air when the team runs out to warm-up. On February 16, 2019 we had another home game in the league. We entered the match winless in our previous three matches and were desperate for points in a league that proved to be tough to navigate. As the game started, we were evenly matched with our opponents. After ten minutes of back and forth action, we conceded a goal against the run of play just as we were beginning to dominate. Shortly after the goal, a mistimed tackle on a broken press resulted in me receiving a yellow card midway through the first half. Early yellow cards can be dangerous and players have to be cautious and composed for the rest of the game if they are carrying one. In my case, I didn’t last the reminder of the half. My team earned a corner and I was instructed to position myself between the center circle and the top of the box. As the ball spilled out from a clearance, I sprinted forward to attack it. As I dueled with a player from the other team, the ball popped up and inadvertently struck the sudden movement of my right arm. The referee blew his whistle and I watched as a bright red card was removed from his pocket and raised in my face.

My head didn’t come up once as I walked off the field. I couldn’t believe that moment was real. I kept expecting to wake up from the horrible nightmare I was living but it didn’t happen. The locker room felt like it was miles away and I trudged along with legs that were heavier than usual. When I finally got to the changing room, I sat slumped with my head buried in my hands. I felt as if I had let everyone down and I knew that it would be nearly impossible for my teammates to manage the rest of the game playing with ten men. Honestly, the next thought I had was to grab my things and disappear. Part of me wanted to vanish around the back of the stadium and slip onto the next train home. Although I felt incredible shame and guilt at what had transpired, I stayed put and decided to wait for my teammates. I showered, changed into my tracksuit, and sat down. The rest of the game felt like it dragged on for hours. Finally, my teammates entered the locker room. Some were clearly furious; kicking and throwing anything in their way in response to another bad result. Others were cursing and shouting. A good number of them didn’t react at all and chose to be silent. I waited a bit longer. When everyone was inside, I went around the room to every player and apologized. I shook each one of my teammates’ hands and left. Regardless of how bad I felt about myself at the time, I knew that I had to do the right thing and show my teammates that I still cared for them and that I was remorseful. The next couple of days after the game were rough. I suffered mentally because I kept replaying my mistakes over and over again. After some very difficult reflection, I finally mustered up the courage to take a deep breath, let it all go, and look ahead to the next two weeks.  

Without a game to play in the upcoming week, I wanted to prove that I would be able to stay focused and help my teammates prepare for our next opponents. I knew that this wouldn’t be a week off or a time to sit back and relax, this would be a week to push my limits. By pushing myself, my hope was that I could bring a kind of energy and conviction that would inspire my teammates to raise their levels as well so that we could earn a much needed win on the weekend. I think this is one of the key elements of successful teams across any sport or discipline; having a collective energy and focus on performing to the very best of your abilities every single day. My usual training routine involves being in the gym at least an hour before every training session and I continued this trend with even more diligence and focus. I monitored my diet even closer than normal and made sure to continue to get enough sleep and water. I felt pressure to be stronger and more disciplined both physically and mentally for the week that I would be back from suspension. When training started, my efforts were doubled. I spent all of the days of the week working with determination and confidence. I took responsibility for the previous weekend’s loss and aimed to make things right for myself and for the team. 

Oftentimes, moving forward means facing adversity and enduring pain or discomfort. We have to be willing to accept and understand this if we are to mature as people and improve in our respective journeys. The more that I experience, the more I understand the words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. when he said, “The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.” If we can only thrive on sunny days, what will we do when it starts to rain? If we can only float when the current is moving with us, how are we supposed to swim when the current moves against us? We have to learn to rise and keep moving forward. We don’t always have the luxury of a perfect scenario for us to have the opportunity to thrive and improve. My week of suspension finished with a tough beach workout that mixed interval sprints with extended long-distance runs. I didn’t want to lose any fitness ahead of my return to the squad the next week. In my mind, I also knew that I didn’t just want to play twenty or thirty minutes off the bench. I wanted to be back in the lineup playing the entire game and I wanted to will this vision into existence. 

Fast forward to the following Saturday, March 2nd, and I was back in the squad and named to the starting lineup. Every time I walked down the halls of Stadium Gal in Irun, I was always in awe of the history that I got to be a part of every single day, it was a true privilege. The walls have several portraits of the teams that have worn the colors of Real Unión dating back to the club’s founding in 1915 and it was a very unique experience to look at these images every time I went to train or play in a game. As I arrived at the stadium for the upcoming match, I knew that my low point from two weekends prior needed a positive response. I wanted to embrace that challenge and prove myself worthy of wearing a jersey that is representative of a rich history of football and Basque culture. The warm-up went by quickly and soon I found myself waiting for the ref to blow his whistle so that the match could begin. Crouched, eyes closed and breathing slowly, I spoke to myself as I do before every game. I remind myself that my family are always with me no matter where I am and that I love them all dearly. Time to play. 

The game started fairly well for my team and we were in control of the early stages. In a flash, there was a breakthrough and I found myself in on goal 1 v 1 against the keeper. He was quick off his line and he deflected my shot out for a corner. My head went down. “That was my chance”, I say to myself. I felt as if I blew it. To be honest, I don’t really remember the next two minutes because I went blank. We scored shortly after and were up 1-0. This is when I shook off the daze that I was in. “Forget about it, keep going!”, I reassured myself. Barely 5 minutes later, our right back played a long ball over the top of the opposing backline. Our lone forward flicked the ball onto me as I made my run inside of him. I didn’t think twice. On top of the arc of the box, I took one touch and curled a left-footed shot into the top corner before the keeper could move. Euphoria. I turned and jumped, punching the air with my fist like a man reborn. “VAMOS!!!”, I screamed. For everything that I had been through since I began my journey, this moment was one that I can never forget. Although I had scored, I wasn’t satisfied yet because we hadn’t won and still had a lot of time left to play. The rest of the game was one of our biggest battles of the season. I knew the last 20 minutes would be spent against the ropes, especially after we had a man sent off. I moved to the right back position and spent the rest of the game scrapping and fighting. My teammates and I cleared ball after ball, relentlessly holding our lines and defending for our lives and the three valuable points we needed. After six minutes of stoppage time at the end of the 90 minutes, the referee finally blew the whistle and we were victorious. I had scored the decisive goal and couldn’t be prouder of what the team had accomplished that day. Days like these remind me that we don’t have to let low points and defeats define who we are. We don’t have to succumb to fear and doubt. We should embrace the entire process, using both the good and the bad as fuel for our journey. Also, regardless of whether we experience victory or defeat, we should constantly be looking for ways to improve and grow. Lastly, we have to recognize that at one point or another, we will stumble or fall; this is why we have to learn to rise.  

If I was asked to write a script for the last year of my life in Spain, I’m not so sure I could have imagined a better story than what unfolded. When I arrived in the Basque country a year ago, I was alone. I was unsigned, living in hostels, and was barely able to string a full sentence together in Spanish. Nobody knew me and I didn’t have any kind of familiar cultural references around me. Many days were difficult and at times, I was both frustrated and angry. I was often lonely but despite how I felt, I usually kept my thoughts to myself even when I talked to my family and closest friends on the phone. Through it all, my outlet was the game. As humbly as I could, I began working my way up. I showed up early and I left late. I worked very hard and I am fortunate to have had the opportunity to continue pursuing a dream that I have had for as long as I can remember. I feel blessed to have lived this experience, and the final chapter of my time in Spain proved to be the sweetest of them all. The weeks after my game-winner turned out to be the best run of form all season for the team and for myself individually. We managed to put together a run of 4 wins, 2 draws and 1 loss that saw us jump up the league standings and move away from the relegation zone. During that stretch, I started all of those games and played in 3 different positions, registering 1 winning goal and 2 assists. Through circumstances that were not in my control, my season had to finish before Easter break. Although I was gutted that I couldn’t see out the final few matches of the year, I knew that the time had come for me to move on. When I told my teammates and coaches, the response I got was truly humbling. I received so many heartfelt messages about how I would be missed and how I had brought so much to the team. My coaches told me about how much I had learned and that my tactical awareness had improved greatly which is what allowed me to play in a few different positions. 

For my last game, we had to win. The pregame talk from the coach was simple; win and send me off with a great memory of the club. I was given the captain’s armband and I led the team out for my final game. This was one of the biggest honors of my life. Also, the fact that I had endeared myself to a group as proud and tightly knit as the Basque people is something that most individuals would have thought to be incredibly far-fetched. At the beginning of the season, wearing the captain’s band with the Basque flag on it was the last thing on my mind, and yet there I was, wearing the armband for a club with an immense history. I started the game at right-back, one of my newfound positions (a spot that my coach thought could be my best position). We scored early and I kept telling myself that this is the way things had to be. Soon after going up 1-0, we found ourselves deep in the other team’s half. I threw the ball in near the corner flag to one of my midfielders. He bounced it back and I lifted my head up. Automatically, I took a touch with my right foot to set myself and whipped in a perfect cross with my left. Our center forward rose to meet the ball and directed the header into the corner of the net, giving the keeper no chance.. “YEEEEEESSSSSS!!!” I screamed. It’s tough to describe the feeling that was coursing through my body in this moment. We went into the break up 2-0 and we knew the next goal would be crucial. If we scored, the game would be over. If they scored, there would be blood in the water. Ten minutes into the second half, they scored. We led 2 to 1 and the pressure they piled on was nonstop, they were truly relentless. The majority of the rest of the game was spent in our half. Unable to take our chances, we had to stay compact and clear the ball out of our defensive third time and time again. With five minutes left of the ninety minutes, my number was called to be substituted. I took off the armband and handed it to the team’s 1st captain. As I jogged off, the crowd gave me a really warm ovation that extended to my teammates and coaches. I applauded back, patting the crest of the club and thanking everyone for welcoming and supporting me. This was finally the end. I sat with my head in my hands for the last few minutes of the game, praying for the ref to blow his whistle. The added time dragged on forever and finally, the whistle went. This was the perfect way to end a chapter that I had been writing with all of my heart and energy for the last year. It couldn’t have finished any sweeter than that. 

The team went to a local restaurant after the game for my goodbye dinner and I was gifted the club’s 100th year anniversary jersey. My teammates sang my name and everyone wished me the best in my journey moving forward. The love and support I was shown was something that I can never forget and these memories will last me for the rest of my life. As I move on to my next challenge, I carry with me all of the lessons and memories from the trials, tribulations, and successes of the past year of my life in Spain. I have grown in ways that I couldn’t have imagined and have truly enjoyed this part of my journey. Muchas gracias por todo Real Unión Club de Irun! 

This blog is dedicated to the glorious memory of my Grandfather, Mr. Peter Kayula, who passed away on July 7th, 2019, as well as to the beautiful new addition to my family, my nephew Matteo Sebastian Kwesele, who came into this world on March 9th, 2019.